


Choice, Not Chance

by phandomoftheowl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomoftheowl/pseuds/phandomoftheowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin receives a letter from Godric Gryffindor, asking to visit Camelot to recruit more children to the new school they are building. Arthur is not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Owl and the Floo

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before S4. Arthur is King, but Lancelot's death is disregarded. As is the Arthur/Gwen story arc in S4.  
> Merlin receives a letter from Godric Gryffindor, asking to visit Camelot to recruit more children to the new school they are building. Arthur is not happy. Archimedes the owl is inspired by Disney's 'Sword in the Stone'. Also, I do not own anything here.

 

 

** ||castles will stand for thousands of years **

**_** my heart will crumble without you near|| ** _ **

 

 

“...do you think, Merlin? Merlin?!”

 

“Hmm? Oh! Er...”

 

King Arthur rolled his eyes at his Court Sorcerer. “That's what I thought.” The assembled knights of the Round Table and Queen Guinevere laughed, not unkindly.

 

“Well, you're talking about _grain_ _reserves._ It's not the most scintillating of subjects,” Merlin complained, fashioning his mouth in a pout. Determined to give off the I _couldn't care less about what we are discussing_ vibe, the most powerful Warlock in all of Albion took to staring at his nails.

 

There were snorts all around. It was a well known fact that Merlin would rather be doing almost anything – even cleaning up after Arthur again – than sit through the tortuously dull council meetings Arthur forced him to come to. Merlin saw Arthur give him an exasperated look out of the corner of his eyes. “We are not, actually, talking about grain reserves anymore,” he informed Merlin. “Which you would know if you weren't busy looking out the window at every passing speck of dust.” 

 

Merlin wanted to protest and say he wasn't blankly staring at dust. He was actually looking out the window waiting for a very important missive. But explaining that would take too much time, and Arthur would only ask more inane questions. So, instead, Merlin gave a shallow bow with just his head, a mockery of a true bow worthy of a King. “My apologies, your highness.” It was difficult keeping a smirk off his face, but Merlin managed only just. Gwaine winked at him from across the table. This time, Merlin did smirk.

 

Some of the knights who had known Merlin from his manservant days exchanged knowing looks at Merlin's tone toward the King. The newer knights, on the other hand, looked downright scandalized, even though it was a well known fact throughout citadel that the King tolerated such insolence from no one but his Court Sorcerer.

 

“Pray tell what you need my invaluable advice on this time,” he said, forcing his face in some semblance of a Serious Expression. 

 

Arthur sighed, but didn't comment on Merlin's jesting tone. “We were  _ discussing _ the rumors spreading through the country. About this supposed sword that won't detach itself from her place in a stone no matter who tries to claim her.” 

 

“Rumors?” Merlin blinked. “Oh. Oh!” Then he beamed widely at the table at large, startling its occupants. “Why, you must venture out and try your hand at it, sire.” The knights turned suddenly sombre, all joking glances gone. 

 

Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow at that. He looked to an equally confused Gwen sitting on his other side, who in turn looked at a frowning Lancelot. Clearly, Merlin was missing something in this Exchanging of Very Important Looks.

 

“What?” he demanded. 

 

Lancelot frowned some more. “You, er. You don't think it might be a curse of some sort?”

 

Merlin gave Lancelot an affronted look. “Of  _ course _ it isn't cursed.” Just then, a beautiful Eastern-Screech owl flew through the open window, carrying a rolled parchment in it's claws. “Ah, Archimedes. There you are.” 

 

Archimedes circled the room once, twice (almost clawing Arthur's ear off the second round) before landing on Merlin's outstretched arm with a self-satisfied hoot.

 

Arthur glared, rubbing his ear exaggeratedly. Honestly, Archimedes didn't  _ mean _ to hurt Arthur. “That ruddy bird is a menace.” 

 

Archimedes glowered at him and opened his beak to squawk at Arthur, before Merlin ran a soothing finger down his head. “Behave,” he said warningly to both Arthur and Archimedes. The surrounding knights did a poor job of hiding their amusement.

 

The owl huffed indignantly, waited until Merlin had removed the missive and took off to his perch in Merlin's tower to get some much needed sleep after his long trip.

 

Arthur glared after him. “I'm telling you, he hates me.”

 

It was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes, while the knights tried to hide their smiles. It was a well known fact that ever since Merlin had met Archimedes, he and the King did not get along. “He does not. He just...”

 

“Hates him?” Gwen offered. 

 

Merlin smiled at her and pushed away from the table. “If I may, your highness?”

 

“Yes, yes. You may leave.” Arthur waved a dismissive hand. Merlin bowed (properly, this time), and was almost at the door to the council chambers when Arthur called him back. 

 

“The sword, what about the sword?” 

 

Merlin smiled at him. “Claim it for yourself, sire.... It was made for you after all.”

 

“It was –“ Arthur shook his head disbelievingly, a slight smile on his face. “Of course it was made for me.” 

 

The day Arthur pulled his sword out of the Stone, Merlin wasn't there. In later years, legend would say Merlin was right there with Arthur, declaring him the true King of Albion. But the truth was – see, the truth was, Merlin was five leagues away trying to stop a vengeful sorcerer, named Tim (and wasn't that a disappointing name for someone trying to kill the King?) from getting to Arthur. Again.

 

So Merlin actually missed the whole ceremonial, symbolic pulling out of sword from stone. He came stumbling through the shrubbery, right sleeve torn, scratches on his face, blood soaking through his tunic (not his own, of course) and found Arthur standing with one foot on the stone, magical sword already in his hand, raised toward the heavens as the knights around him roared in support of their King. Then, then – Merlin always kept this part out of the legends he spread throughout the millenia – Arthur's sea blue eyes met Merlin's cerulean and he gave one nod. It said everything without saying anything at all.

 

There was a feast that night. Arthur named his new sword Excalibur. After that day, he never went anywhere without her.

 

For all that Merlin complained about Arthur making him sit through hopelessly boring council meetings, the truth was that Merlin didn't leave his tower for days on end sometimes. Now that he didn't have to practice magic in secret, and could access the books Geoffrey and Gaius hid away during the Purge without looking over his shoulder, he had much more time to _learn._ Arthur always added 'By error more than trial.' Which Merlin could not truthfully deny. 

 

Archimedes was an error.

 

Sometime after Uther's death, between Arthur mourning and being crowned King, Merlin had the bright idea that he wanted to learn to fly. It was mostly because Arthur had wanted to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the castle, and Merlin relished any opportunity where Arthur asked him to show him magic. He still swore to this day he hovered for a few inches, no matter what Arthur said. Really, he  _did._ But anyways, there he was hovering ( no, not standing on his tip toes,  _Arthur)_ when there was a surprised hoot, flurry of feathers, and the distinct sound of something falling from a tree nearby. 

 

This was followed by some colorful swearing that would make even the bawdiest of stable boys blush. When Merlin and Arthur inched closer to inspect the source of this swearing, they found it was not, as they had initially suspected, a man. Rather, it was an owl. And owl who cursed and stomped and squawked and hooted hotly until he realized the two dim witted humans (his words, not Merlin's) watching him could actually understand him. He insulted Arthur first because of his utterly gormless expression. Merlin, more used to animals doing unexpected things around him, had taken it more or less in stride.

 

Hunith had always been adamant in teaching Merlin as much as she could. Having grown up with Gaius (a scholar's son) she knew quite a bit of the scholarly arts, which she passed on to Merlin. So when Merlin realized Archimedes thought too much, constantly pondering on this or that, Merlin knew what to name him. Thus the name Archimedes derived from the Greeks. Luckily, the temperamental owl had accepted it without complaint.

 

Merlin and Archimedes had been inseparable since then. Anyone, be it man, woman, child, animal, (or in this case) bird, who called Arthur a 'brain dead, trollish, brute-like clotpole' – well. They were most definitely on Merlin's list of People Whom He Must Befriend Immediately. Merlin loved Archimedes. Understandably, Arthur did not. The whole brain dead, trollish, brute-like clotpole may or may not have had something to do with that.

 

Archimedes was still a free bird, but he would occasionally do Merlin a favor. Like bring him rare supplies from far off lands to where Merlin himself could not travel easily, or kill the pesky rats in his chambers. Or, he would, say... deliver a letter to someone who communicated to him via the _fireplace_ in his tower. And called it Floo.

 

Yes, he really did.

 

Godric Gryffindor first got in touch with Merlin five full moon cycles ago. It had been late into the night when the dying fire had suddenly flared brightly and a scrap of parchment was floating to the hearth in front of it.

 

 _Dearest Warlock,_ the letter read.

 

_This may seem abrupt and a tad presumptuous. Forgive me. I am Godric Gryffindor from the moors of North Humbria. I call upon you as a representative from these northern lands for the purpose of furthering the teachings of magic throughout the land. As the troubled times for magic folk in your lands dwindle, I ask, nay, beseech you consider my offer._

 

_We, that is to say, my dearest friends and I have started a school. In secret, of course, for there are still many who hate our kind and would persecute us without a moment's delay. However, magical education should not be limited to only those from our regions. I am sure there are many in your parts who possess the gift. They too, should have this opportunity to learn. We wish to give them this opportunity._

 

_I hope you give this proposal thought._

 

_Until then, I am,_

 

_Humbly,_

 

_Godric Gryffindor._

 

Merlin's stomach had fluttered in excitement. The thought of saying no had not even occurred to him. Correspondence had been struck, and Merlin and Godric Gryffindor had written frequently. Over the course of their conversations, he found out who these 'we' were, and been informed that Godric had located him because his power had shone like a beacon across the lands. He had insisted on calling Merlin Emrys in the early days, but Merlin had quickly disabused him of the notion.

 

Merlin had written back saying he would love nothing more than to promote this school of theirs, and that he would most assuredly find young boys and girls with magical talents and herd them their way. At first he hadn't known how to deliver the letter to Godric, not knowing the secret of fire communication. Archimedes had come up with the bright idea of taking the letter to Gryffindor himself. Merlin had been doubtful at first, but Archimedes had glowered him into submission. Needless to say, the letter had been delivered safe and sound within three days.

 

Merlin didn't tell anyone in Camelot about Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin and their school. It was just something he wanted to keep to himself. For now, at least. When Arthur asked why he was going door to door across the town and out-lying villages, Merlin shrugged and said he wanted to help families with children like him. He didn't tell Arthur he talked to them of the school up in the north where they would learn more magic than they imagined.

 

Until now....

 

Godric's latest missive, the one Archimedes brought in while he was in the Very Boring Meeting in the council chambers, asked if they could come to Camelot for some time to meet the children Merlin had judged gifted in the magical arts. He sighed. This would not be easy.

 

“You _what_?!”

 

Merlin took a deep breath and prayed for patience. He rather required it when Arthur decided he wanted to be exceptionally difficult. It wouldn't do to get as fired up as Arthur right now.

 

“Sire, it is beneficial to Camelot to have magical alli –“

 

“So you want them to come here? To _Camelot_?” 

 

It was lucky, Merlin thought, there was no one other than Gwen, Lancelot, and Gwaine here to see Arthur yelling at his Court Sorcerer in such an un-kingly fashion. His face held a slightly red tinge to it; proof that Arthur was more than just a little annoyed. Though Merlin couldn't understand for the life of him why.

 

Well.... maybe he might. Just a tad.

 

“It isn't just for me,” Merlin defended. “It's for all the children of the realm who have no guiding hand. They need someone to teach them. Someone to help them harness these powers for good.” 

 

Arthur paused his spluttering for a moment. Merlin knew the stubborn king could find little fault in this logic. However, he soon pouted petulantly like the arrogant prig Merlin knew him to be (Druidic prophesy be damned) and said, “You can teach them, here in the castle.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes. He had known Arthur would try to make this argument, and Merlin already had just the words to counter it. “I cannot. Half the time I'm trying to sort out this magical catastrophe or that accident. And if I'm not doing that, I'm running after you to make sure you don't get yourself killed. If it's not that, I'm spending the rest of my time fortifying Camelot against her many enemies. Tell me, my King,  _where_ am I supposed to find time to help the magical children of the realm between all that?” Merlin added, “I had Gaius. He helped me harness my powers and mold them. Every child deserves that.” There was a pause where Arthur and Merlin stared each other down in a silent battle of wills. 

 

Arthur stood tall and golden in front of his throne in Camelot red, the crown upon his head brilliant. His eyes held the fierce stubbornness that made most everyone (except Merlin, of course, because someone had to stand up to him) tremble; his regal jaw was set just this side of arrogant. Merlin himself tilted his chin upwards as a unspoken challenge. He kept his gaze a delicate balance between adamant and insolent (although, maybe, just maybe, it veered more towards the latter). The other three occupants of the room held their breath, waiting for the King to pass his verdict.

 

Eventually, Arthur released an angry huff through his nose. His eyes skittered sideways for half a second before landing on Merlin once more. “ _Fine_ . They shall be my guests.” The childish  _if they must_ was left unsaid, but Merlin heard it nonetheless. 

 

Merlin may have grinned just a little triumphantly.

 

Arthur scowled. “Shut up,  _Mer_ lin.” 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Three weeks later found the Court of Camelot waiting in the citadel's courtyard waiting for it's first Very Important Historic Foreign Magical Visit. It was all very pretentious and frivolous and exciting.  
  


Civilians from the lower town had gathered as well, all waiting for the new sorcerers to show themselves. Merlin would be lying if his nerves weren't jangling excitedly.

 

Next to him, Gwaine put a soothing palm on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin leaned into the touch slightly. “Calm down. Your acting like a skittish colt.”

 

“I _feel_ like a skittish colt,” Merlin answered under his breath, causing the knight to chuckle under his breath. 

 

Merlin didn't voice what he was really worried about. He knew everyone awaiting their guests' arrival expected them to come trotting up the courtyard's main entryway. He, however, having had intimate knowledge of magical folk, knew their entrance would not be so simple.

 

He was right.

 

After an uncounted amount of time, there was a loud rustling noise followed by a windstorm in the courtyard. It was reminiscent of the dust storm Merlin had created in Ealdor all those years ago. Arthur glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Merlin grinned and shrugged; there was nothing to say. Other people were not as understanding. Some screamed while others watched, fascinated as the storm slowed until it died out and in its place stood a dark wooden, horseless carriage with intricate designs on the sides. Upon closer inspection, Merlin found they were animals: a lion, a raven, a badger, and a snake.

 

Out stepped three people whom Merlin could name just by the descriptions Godric had provided him in their many magical missives. The first one, a man with light colored hair like Arthur's, clad in red and gold, was none other than Godric Gryffindor. Merlin looked him up and down, tallying this real image of Godric to the one he had created in his mind's eye. Yes, he had the same chiseled jaw Merlin had imagined, as well as the bright green eyes (although he wouldn't be able to tell you why he thought Godric would have green eyes), and broad smile that seemed to always resonate through his letters.

 

Godric held the door open for the other two occupants to step out. The second to follow was a tall, dark haired woman with the sharpest violet eyes Merlin had ever seen. She crackled with undefined energy and reminded Merlin of... well, she reminded Merlin of Morgana. Strong, yet with a certain vulnerability about her. Her clothes were flowing robes of royal blue with bronze lining around the seams of her cloak. Last came a woman who was doubtlessly Helga Hufflepuff, with hair lighter than Rowena's but darker than Godric's. She had a kind face and easy smile on her. Merlin immediately relaxed when he saw her.

 

Merlin waited, only just stopping himself from running down the steps to greet his guests. This was a historic moment, and Merlin didn't want to ruin it by being his usual bumbling self. Although, it was quite difficult to keep his smile controlled.

 

The newcomers bowed deeply to Arthur first, then Guinevere, and lastly Merlin.

 

“Lord Gryffindor, Dame Hufflepuff, Lady Ravenclaw. Welcome to Camelot,” Arthur greeted, as gracious as any King. If Merlin didn't know any better, he would have said this trip was all Arthur's idea. 

 

Except, Merlin did know better, so he saw stiffness that belied Arthur's geniality. He only just resisted rolling his eyes at his King's guarded gaze. Despite Uther being gone for three years, Arthur was still wary of any magic and magic wielders who were not Merlin. Though Merlin did not blame him, he wished Arthur would be a little more warm toward their guests.

 

“'Tis our greatest pleasure,” Dame Hufflepuff said. She turned to Merlin. “An honor, Emrys, to meet the greatest Warlock of our time.” 

 

Merlin frowned in a joking manner.“It is Merlin, for I shall call you Dame Hufflepuff your entire visit here otherwise.”

 

“Surely not,” Lady Ravenclaw chirped from behind Helga. “Helga detests the title.” She presented her hand forward for Merlin to kiss. 

 

“Indeed, I am aware,” Merlin told her as he looked up at her from underneath his eyelashes with an impish grin. “My lady.”

 

She gave a tinkling laugh at Merlin's silly antics. “Oh, Godric. You hadn't exaggerated his charm.”

 

“There was no need, Rowena.” Godric extended his own arm to Merlin to shake in a friendly manner. “Although, I must agree with Helga. It is an honor to be standing here. In both your presences.” He added hastily when he realized he had forgotten the King. 

 

Arthur raised on eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at the half-hearted save. “The servants will show you to your chambers. I'm sure you want to freshen before the feast after your...” He glanced suspiciously at the horseless carriage standing in the middle of the courtyard. “Journey.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A few hours after arrival of Camelot's latest guests Arthur huffed, and he puffed, and he wished he could blow the castle down from just his rage but he didn't have the power. Maybe Merlin did.

 

Most likely.

 

“I don't trust them,” he finally blurted out to Gwen and Lancelot who were sitting in the King's antechamber with him while he attempted to sort through some tedious reports. 

 

Gwen snorted delicately from her relaxed perch on the chair nearby. She didn't even have the courtesy of looking up from her book. “There's a surprise.”

 

Arthur pouted in a very pleasing way that worked on everyone but Merlin. But he was just special that way. True to his prediction, Gwen softened her mirthful gaze a little. “They're  _magic_ ,” he hissed mostly to himself, but Gwen and Lancelot both heard him.

 

“Don't let Merlin hear you say that,” she said with a reproving glance. “Personally, I think they seem quite nice.” Next to her, Lancelot nodded agreeably like the besotted sap and Queen's Champion he was. Although, no one apart from the three of them knew of Lancelot's secret position as Champion. 

 

“You're supposed to agree with _me_ , oh, First Knight of the realm.” Arthur scowled disapprovingly at Lancelot. 

 

It took Lancelot a few more seconds before he looked away from Gwen. “If I may be so bold, your majesty. Perhaps you should ask yourself why you  _really_ distrust them so. Or should I say,  _him,_ in particular?” 

 

This only caused Arthur to frown more fiercely. “I just do! And I'm your King, you're not allowed to be bold until I say it's okay.”

 

Lancelot gave a respectful bow, but there was a small smile on his face. It reminded Arthur of how his father looked at him when he was only a babe and was being a spectacular brat. It didn't make him feel much better when he saw a similar smile on Gwen's lips. He slumped in his chair – not at all petulantly, thank you very much – when the door to his chambers banged open.

 

“I _swear_ by Merlin's insolence, no one respects me properly around here.” He glared at Gwaine. “You're supposed to _knock_ before you enter the royal chambers, you know?”

 

Gwaine smirked. “Yes, your Queen-liness. I'm only here to remind you of the feast in honor of our guests.”

 

Arthur peered at the rouge knight. “I wasn't going to skip it, if that's what you're worried about.”

 

Three pairs of eyebrows were raised at him in an uncanny impression of Gaius. “Well, wasn't thinking on it  _too_ seriously,” he grumbled under his breath, and then decided he really should lay down the law more strictly. He was  _King,_ dammit. 

 

And anyway, he mused as he walked to the banquet hall with Guinevere on his arm and Lancelot and Gwaine flanking him, it wasn't as if he particularly disliked them.  _Much._

 

It was just... well, Godric Gryffindor wore  _red_ and  _gold._ Like  _Camelot_ red and dragon on the flag gold. It wasn't  _fair._ They were  _Arthur's_ colors, not something – something a run off the mill sorcerer with a stupid title like  _Lord_ could just snatch them and use them for himself. It just wasn't  _done_ . 

 

When Arthur entered the hall, he saw Merlin already seated at the High Table with Archimedes perched on his shoulder, waiting for Arthur and Guinevere. Camelot's guests were already seated there with him. Dame Hufflepuff sat on the far right, between Gwen's and Lancelot's seats. Godric Gryffindor sat between Arthur's high chair and Merlin while Rowena sat on Merlin's left, putting her between the Sorcerer and Gwaine. They were all dressed in the same colors as they were before, though the clothes were different.

 

Everyone stood and bowed as their King and Queen walked up the aisle leading to the High Table. Arthur only just managed to contain his scowl at having to sit next to  _Lord_ Gryffindor making polite conversation. He turned to face his people and gave a small speech about welcoming a new era and new friends, topping it off by asking everyone to enjoy the feast. 

 

“I think it is an ingenious idea,” Arthur heard Lady Rowena say down the table. “Using a bird as intelligent as an owl to send your letters to us, Merlin.” 

 

Archimedes ruffled his feathers in appreciation of the praise. Arthur glowered at his roasted boar. Merlin chuckled, stroked Archimedes' head, and said, “I could have asked for no one better. Yet, your Floo fascinates me.”

 

“It was an invention of Salazar's,” Godric explained. “His and Helga's. We had been discussing the demerits of traveling hundreds of stairs for the purpose of one sentence messages when Helga came up with the idea. I still haven't the foggiest how they did it.” 

 

“It's quite sad Master Slytherin could not make it,” Merlin said with adequate sympathy. 

 

Godric waved a dismissive hand and grinned brightly at Merlin. Arthur was vexed to note Merlin returned his smile. He didn't smile at  _Arthur_ like that. He mostly gave Arthur indulgent little smirks. “Salazar is quite a recluse. Doesn't come out of the dungeons unless we force him. Hell, he'd forget to eat if Helga didn't have regular meals sent to him three times a day. He's happier with just the apprentices underfoot. Likes tormenting them, you see.” 

 

“Speaking of apprentices,” Rowena piped up from next to Merlin. “When _are_ we going to meet our potential students, Master Merlin?” 

 

“As early as tomorrow morning, m'lady. I have invited the parents to bring their children to the castle to meet you.” Merlin smiled unreservedly. Arthur thought he saw the Lady Rowena flush just a little. He clenched a fist under the table. 

 

“Excellent,” Godric commented. “I look forward to meet the charming little ruffians.” 

 

Gwen looked scandalized at the children being called so, but neither Merlin nor Helga and Rowena said anything in protest. It seemed that was just Godric's way of speaking.

 

“You won't be disappointed,” Merlin assured him. 

 

 


	2. The Arrival and the Swords

The next day, Arthur decided to take time out of daily kingly proceedings to see the arrival of the magical children of Camelot. He was astonished to find there were not many children there. No more than a dozen, if that. They were all dressed in the best clothes their peasant upbringing could afford. The children were seated along a long table, at the head of which stood Merlin, Godric, Rowena, and Helga. As soon as they noticed Arthur in the doorway, they rose primly and bowed. Arthur suspected their parents had trained them for this. He raised a hand, indicating they all sit back.

 

“Don't mind me,” he said with his most charming smile. He turned to the youngest of the children. “I'm not really here.” The two girls, no more than six or seven, giggled behind their palms. Arthur looked up to find Merlin with an approving smile. Something in Arthur's chest expanded a little.

 

Arthur watched quietly from his corner as the three delegates of the school of magic walked amongst their potential pupils asking questions and requesting demonstrations of their abilities. The oldest girl who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen was the last one to be approached by Dame Hufflepuff. She looked up shyly at the kind noblewoman, touched her right hand over her heart and closed her eyes. A beat later, in her place was a large black cat almost as big as a panther.

 

Arthur's hand immediately closed around the pommel of his sword. The last time such a cat had been within Camelot's walls, people had died. Helga did not seem alarmed, however, for she reached out a hand and petted the large feline.

 

“Fascinating,” Rowena murmured, walking closer to the...girl? Cat?

 

Arthur turned to Merlin to ask whether it was safe to keep the beast – girl – so close to the younger children. Instead of Merlin's assuring face, what Arthur saw was an expressionless warlock gazing at the cat with a strange, wild look in his eyes. It was gone in the next moment when Godric turned to Merlin to ask something of the magical element that would allow such a transformation. Merlin smiled widely and said something that held little importance to Arthur. He was more concerned with the uncharacteristic flash of grief in Merlin's eyes. He wanted to ask Merlin about it, but knew better than to expect a truthful answer. Merlin may have told him a fair bit of the time before Arthur knew about Merlin's magic, but Arthur knew there were still some secrets they didn't speak about. He wanted to confront Merlin about it.

 

But the moment was gone, and bringing it up later would make things unnecessarily uncomfortable. They might not be master and servant anymore, might even be almost equals as King and (almighty-and-ridiculously-powerful) Sorcerer, and most certainly were friends. However... talking still did not come easily to either of them. Knowing he wasn't needed here, Arthur walked out of the room.

 

So if, when he stood by the door for a moment or two and saw Merlin laughing with his head thrown back looking right at home with the other sorcerers, Arthur's heart clenched a little at the merry image, then, he rationalized, it was no one's business but his own.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Merlin jumped away from the bright flash of yellow just in time to throw a shield up at the last second. Rowena gave a tinkling laugh as she watched her spell dissipate at the force of Merlin's magic. They were on the tournament grounds, Merlin against Rowena and Godric. Helga sat watching them in the shade with Gwen and a few of the other knights. It was exhilarating to say the least. He wanted nothing more to stay out here and practice his magic with these wonderful magical beings. It was glorious to let his powers loose and not worry about enemy armies or murderous sorcerers.

He allowed Godric to get a small strike in before successfully distracting him and Rowena with a well aimed, albeit childish, tripping curse that sent Rowena toppling into Godric's path just as he was about to strike Merlin again, thus allowing Merlin to triumph over their duel. Both of them congratulated him amiably and went on to join Gwen, Helga, and the knights. It was only then that Merlin noticed Arthur had come to observe their friendly match sometime when he wasn't paying attention.

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at his king as if to say, how did I do? He wasn't expecting a high compliment, or even one at all. Arthur just tended to act as though Merlin performing any task adequately, magic or otherwise, was an achievement in and of itself. He would shout to any willing listener – unless it was the enemy, of course – that Merlin was still the clumsy idiot who'd stumbled into Camelot all those years ago. At least somethings never changed, for which Merlin was very grateful.

 

Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin's unspoken query, but he did nod just once and ever so slightly that Merlin doubted anyone but him had seen it.

 

A gong sounded in the distance, signaling that it was time to head on back to the castle to ready for supper. It would be held in the private dining hall for a more intimate setting.

 

Merlin followed the King and Queen at a leisurely pace, knowing that royalty's affinity for punctuality meant that the gong had sounded two hours before supper would actually be served. Merlin did not need two hours to get ready.

 

He smiled when Godric fell back to walk with him. The man was a little shorter than Merlin, perhaps closer to Gwaine's height, but he held himself in such a way that most would not have seen the difference. It was obvious Godric was born into nobility, and had an upbringing more similar to Arthur's than Merlin's own.

 

“I hope you've enjoyed your stay here thus far,” Merlin remarked, one eye trained on Arthur and the other politely on his companion. Despite being surrounded by knights, Arthur was still likely to be targeted. It was always better to be safe rather than sorry when it came to their king.

 

“Most definitely,” Godric assured him. “The children were marvelous, and I daresay even Salazar will find himself pleased at the few who have shown a favoritism to his variety of magic.

 

Merlin grinned, relieved that their trip had not been disappointing. “Well, I am glad they will have teachers as accomplished as you guiding them.”

 

“Indeed.” He seemed to want to say something more, but closed his mouth at the last moment.

 

“Is something the matter, Godric?” Merlin asked, surprised his new friend should hesitate to speak plainly. “I assure you, you need not fear offending courtly niceties with me. I don't particularly care for them.”

 

Godric huffed a laugh. “Nothing, nothing, my friend. Only...” His voice trailed off, and Merlin followed his gaze to Arthur who had turned around to look at the pair of them. Godric went on, his voice lowered, “I get the feeling the King is not all that happy to have us here.”

 

Merlin pursed his lips in annoyance. Clearly Arthur's uneasiness around Camelot's guests had not gone unnoticed. “He is just a tad...” Merlin wracked his brain for an apt adjective that would not upset Godric. “Wary,” he finally settled on. “Just a little wary of anyone with gifts. A result of the late King Uther's upbringing.”

 

Godric nodded understandingly. “I suppose I can sympathize. My father has always been distrusting of those who do not posses our talents. Our family is an old one, you see, much like your Dragon Lord heritage we can trace ours to before the religion of this one true God. Especially in the northern parts where the effect of Uther's purge was minimal, my father's rule distinguished between the magical folks and the plain folks. Growing up, I was taught to be careful around those who were not like me. It took me a long time before I realized that they are not much different from us. And that, sometimes, even parents with no magical blood can produce the most gifted children.” He said the last part with a significant glance at Helga.

 

“Arthur will come around,” Merlin assured Godric. “It will take some time, but he has a good heart.”

 

Godric blinked once, twice before his face split in a grin that worried Merlin. “Indeed, he must, if it belongs to a man as good as you.”

 

“I – what? No. He's not – we aren't – ” But Godric was already gone up the steps and into the castle, leaving a dumbstruck Merlin in his wake.

 

Merlin decided to think no further on what Godric had insinuated at earlier today. His words would do very little to calm his already over active mind. He passed the time tidying around his rooms. They always became a frightful mess, and Arthur was always telling him to take on an apprentice or something of the sort, but Merlin refused. He had too many problems to be dealing with, let alone training some new boy or girl how to decipher the ordered chaos that was his tower.

 

There was a knock on the door. Merlin absently waved a hand at the mop and bucket, and the scurried on to their place in the closet. The rest of the books and vials of potions were still sorting themselves out when Arthur strode in, fully ready in his ceremonial clothes. It was a mark of how accustomed he had grown to Merlin's magic that he didn't even flinch at a chair leg scrubbing down the table.

 

“Are you...cleaning?”

 

Merlin was quite offended. “No need to sound so astonished. I have been known to clean once in a while.”

 

Arthur fixed him with an incredulous stare.

 

“Oh, all right. About once in a few years, but so what? I'm this court's warlock and our guests might want to come up here for something, and I don't wish for them to come to a...” Merlin trailed off as he considered the proper wordage.

 

“Pigsty?” Arthur offered, with a smirk. Merlin glared at him, but it seemed to have no effect. “So you're cleaning because you want to – what? Impress your guests?”

 

“Perhaps, maybe.”

 

“Is it Lord Gryffindor?”

 

“What?”

 

“Gryffindor. Is he the one you want to impress?”

 

Merlin frowned at Arthur's emphasis, confused. He turned around to glare one of his scrolls into rolling itself before hopping onto the shelf. “I suppose, yes.”

 

He didn't think he imagined the harsh clack of Arthur's teeth. “I see. I'll see you at dinner then.”

 

“Hmmm.” Merlin debated adding another shelf into the wall.

 

It was only after the chamber door closed with a sharp snap did Merlin realize that Arthur never said why he had come all the way up for.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arthur tried not to glare too much anything and everything his gaze landed on, but mostly he just tried not to turn his head and glare at the pompous windbag snaring all of Merlin's attention. Honestly, the man was more chatty than Merlin, which, not he thought about it, could very well be the reason they got along so marvelously. Neither of them would stop nattering on about this magical beast or that particular spell and how useful such and such was for curing that one malady, don't you agree, Master Merlin?

 

'Twas bad enough Merlin had to be his ridiculously charming self in his special utterly, inept, brain damaged sort of way, but now Godric was just draping himself all over hi – Camelot's warlock, the hussy.

 

“Stop that. Lord Godric is not a hussy,” Guinevere's amused voice spoke from next to him. Arthur hadn't been aware he had spoken out loud. He glanced around to make sure no one else had over heard him being uncharitable toward his guest.

 

When he was sure only Gwen had heard his slip on tongue, Arthur whispered, “Are you quite certain?”

 

“Yes, Arthur, I am.” She sounded very exasperated, as if she were speaking to a five year old. To complete the insult, she just had to add, “And finish your vegetables.”

 

Arthur scowled very fiercely at his peas.

 

As dinner progressed, he heard little snatches of conversation between his dinner guests around the round table. Next to him, Gwen and Dame Helga were discussing the children from this morning, while across from him Gwaine and Lancelot were locked in a ferocious debate over Mercian sword making versus Camelot's own. Gwaine favored the former, apparently.

 

“Man made weaponry is all well and good,” Rowena said from her place between Godric and Lancelot. “But I must say I am partial to the goblin wrought silver myself.”

 

A hush fell over the knights and king and queen at the mention of goblin made silver. Merlin, all knowing fool, acted as if such a thing was unsurprising. Especially considering the horrible incident with a goblin they all had a couple years before Uther's death.

 

“Goblin made...silver?” Arthur decided to ask what most of them were wondering.

 

Merlin chuckled knowingly, and explained, “Not the goblin we encountered. These are a different breed. More serious and highly intelligent creatures with unique gifts, metallurgy being just one of them. Goblin made objects are really quite precious.”

 

Arthur gave him a baffled look, silently asking Merlin how the hell he knew that when he had very rarely – if ever – traveled since coming to Camelot. Merlin shrugged at Arthur and smiled. It was then that Godric, the smug bastard, pulled out a sword from God only knew where and placed it on the table between the ham and the venison.

 

Merlin reached out a reverent hand to stroke the pommel. “Is this – ?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

The sword wasn't anything too special, Arthur couldn't help but notice. It was slender and silver encrusted with rubies, quite unlike his golden broadsword with ancient runes on both sides, but Gryffindor's was longer. So what if Godric's was made by some obscure order of gobins? Arthur's was created with the Great Dragon's breath. It was more legendary...or something. Merlin paid no more attention to Arthur's gaze, and bent his head to converse with Godric and Rowena about goblins and silver.

 

Arthur sat back in his chair and frowned, the combination of warm furs at his back and tangy wine making him drowsy and annoyed. He cut viciously into the boar he had had his knights hunt earlier that day and tried not to remember Merlin's happy face on the tournament field.

 

 


	3. The Offer and the Regret

Merlin strode through the halls of Camelot purposefully. There had been a fire of some sort at the royal black smith's hut that he had helped put out. It was faster and safer than the other townspeople throwing buckets of water over it. Right now he was covered in soot and smelled vaguely like he had been roasted a spit himself. Other people in the corridors stayed as far away from his as possible, understanding his need for a bath. Smart people they were.

 

“Merlin. Master Merlin!”

 

He turned when he heard Rowena's voice calling him. He smiled when she did not step closer, instead choosing to speak with from a distance. “How may I help, my lady?”

 

She shook her head at his use of her title. “I only wondered if you would care to join me for luncheon today? There is something I wished to ask of you before we return.”

 

He blinked, rubbing the dust from his eyelashes. “But of course. I shall have someone set us a picnic. It is much too beautiful day to waste indoors.” With well wishes for her morning, Merlin walked off, wondering what she could want.

 

He met her in the court yard a little after the sun was high in the sky. Their horses were already waiting, food baskets strapped to them. Even after all these years, it still caught Merlin off guard when he realized he wasn't expected to do any of these chores anymore. He smiled and thanked the stable boys as always, and helped Rowena onto her saddle. She allowed him.

 

Rowena had a brilliant mind, of that there was no doubt. Godric had told him as much, and she had the most fascinating theories on the properties of different magiks. That afternoon they conversed about everything ranging from Dragon Lord gifts to healing magic to creation of new spells, and the convenience of Latin to the tongue Merlin and most magical folk preferred in these western parts.

 

She, of course, defended Latin.

 

Merlin found himself loosing track of time in her company. He laughed when she told him a particularly amusing story of the time Godric had charmed the walls of the dungeons of their castle to chirp like birds every time Salazar passed by them. Merlin chuckled heartily and asked her to teach him the spell so he could torment Arthur when he became too much of a prat.

 

Before they knew it, the sun was dipping into the hills beyond the glade they sat in. Rowena turned to the darkly flushed sky, her back turned to Merlin, and Merlin froze. He silhouette was disturbingly familiar, and had to force himself to suppress the urge to whisper Morgana's name out loud. By the time she looked back at him, Merlin had gathered his wits.

 

“It is beautiful, is it not?” She asked softly, he fair eyes trained on him.

 

“Very,” he agreed, his gaze averted.

 

“Merlin.” Rowena's tone had changed from the joyous, almost playful one from earlier. Merlin looked at her, his fears turning baseless when she remained Rowena. “I, that is Godric, Helga and I wished to ask you something. They are busy preparing for the departure, unfortunately, or else they would be here with me. Some of the youngsters' parents have last minute inquiries. You know how parents can be, sometimes so attached even when they know they must let their child go for their well being.”

 

Merlin halted her ramble with a touch to the back of her hand.“Rowena, speak plainly. You know I do not take offense easily. What is it you wish to ask of me?”

 

Rowena smiled at his usual direct approach. “You are, for now and ever the most power vessel of magical power this world has or will ever see. It would do us great honor if you took some time to come up north with us to teach at the school.”

 

Merlin furrowed his brow. Of all the things he had expected her to say, this was not one of them. “Come with you?”

 

“Only for a few months. I know there is much knowledge only you can provide them and if Camelot's safety is your worry, then you mustn't let that hinder you. The coach we arrived by can cross leagues within a blink of an eye. Someone need only scry for when you are needed. You magic is powerful, and it can protect easily enough when there are no enemy armies.” She spoke in such an imploring voice that Merlin found himself contemplating it.

 

Rowena had thought everything through, he knew. She made valid points about being only few minutes away despite the leagues that separated Camelot and the northern lands. Merlin had never really left Camelot in all the ten or so years he'd been here, unless it was for campaigns or wars. He'd never really done anything for himself. Camelot was in a rare time of peace with her surrounding realms, except for the odd warlord who imagined himself capable of challenging Arthur and his knights. He could leave now, reinforce Camelot's protections and make arrangements to have a temporary replacement within court to handle the day to day physician's duties. It would only be a few months anyway. Camelot was still his home, where his friends lived. He couldn't imagine never returning. Just, maybe a little time to himself would be nice. Just a little.

 

He looked down at their empty picnic basket, then back to Rowena. “I will have to speak with my King, but I think I will love to accompany you back to your school. I would be a fool to reject the offer.”

 

“Oh!” Rowena threw her arms around Merlin's neck and laughed. “I am so glad, Merlin.”

 

He hugged her back, chuckling at her jubilant cry he said, “I still have a hard headed king to contend with and convince. Do not get your hopes up too much, my lady.”

 

She pulled back to look him in his eyes with unnerving intensity. “Your king loves you, good sir, I cannot believe he would refuse you anything.”

 

“Then you clearly have not met the true King Arthur.”

 

“No.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed tiredly, and rubbed at his eyes. They had been at this for an hour, ever since Merlin came back from his luncheon with Rowena. He had sent word with a page that he wanted to speak with Arthur after his council was over. When he had finished relying Rowena's wishes to Arthur, he reacted...rather unpleasantly.

 

“No, no, definitely not. I refuse to let you leave this court and certainly not with that band of...of...”

 

Merlin was in no mood for Arthur's distrust of magic at the moment. “Of what, exactly? Of three of the most kind and gentle people you have ever had the good fortune to meet? Of the people who ignored your tendency to treat them coldly and were nothing but respectful toward you _despite_ you acting like the prat of the highest order.”

 

“I was a prat? Me? What about your precious Godric with his stupid sword and his stupid wand and that swagger with him walking around this castle as if he owned it. As if he was a real lord of some sort hulking– ”

 

“He is a real lord, you knob. He was born into royalty just like your princely arse was. At least he's kind, generous, and respects everyone whether they have magic or not. I thought you were different now, Arthur. I though you understood magic is good and you shouldn't have to fear it. Or is it all right only when it's under your reign, your control. When it's only me doing brave acts that help you and your sodding kingdom.”

 

“As if I could ever control you! As if you've ever followed a single order of mine from the minute we met.”

 

Merlin prayed for patience, took a deep breath through his nose and said, “Then _why_ are you so against me going?”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arthur froze, the words he desperately wanted to say right at the tip of his tongue. _I don't want you to go because I'm scared you'll never return._ He couldn't very well say that, though. Merlin would – he would laugh probably, and call Arthur a prat, maybe shove him gently. Not because Merlin would ridicule his words, but because he wouldn't understand that Arthur meant it as more than Merlin's friend, and that would hurt more than anything. 

 

Instead he stupidly told Merlin he had to listen because Arthur was King, dammit and Merlin had to do what the king said. Merlin didn't take to that very well, as was to be expected. He stood up straight, shoulders thrown back, he gave Arthur a look. The same disappointed look he used to give back when Arthur hadn't known about his magic. The look that said  _you have no idea how much I have done for you without asking anything but your friendship._

 

Arthur hated that look because it reminded him of all the times he had failed being a true friend to the only true friend he had ever had.

 

“I'm sorry, Arthur, but I sincerely want to go, but if you cannot – if you cannot understand that, sire, then I will stay here as your humble servant as your majesty commands it.” He ended the miserable sounding statement with a small bow. 

 

Stricken, Arthur told him to stop. Merlin never called him your majesty and he certainly never bowed to him unless it was mockingly. The rare moments of respect of acknowledgment of their difference in rank only occurred when Merlin was being exceptionally wise and all knowing, a habit he fell into when he noticed Arthur needed support only Merlin could provide. Although, how someone who claimed to know every aspect of his king could be so utterly oblivious to Arthur's true feelings for him, Arthur never understood. Then again, he certainly had never claimed he knew how Merlin's mind worked. No. His warlock was still inscrutable and unfathomable to Arthur as he had been the very first time they fought in the lower town. There would probably always be something about Merlin Arthur couldn't quite put a finger on.

 

Arthur wasn't fool enough to think Merlin wouldn't leave despite Arthur's refusal. Merlin had never once listened to what Arthur had to say, and it was very unlikely he would start now. He knew what he had to say, for Merlin's happiness if nothing else. “I'm sorry. Please, Merlin, this isn't us. We don't – Just stop you stupid man. You can go if you want and have a very jolly time with your sorcerers, but you need to stop bowing like...like George. It doesn't suit you.”

 

Arthur turned on his heel immediately without waiting for Merlin's response. If he had to get used to not seeing Merlin around for a while, he was damn well going to start now, he was adamant. This little separation would be good. Arthur could get Merlin's everything out from under his skin if Merlin was away, and things would go back to how they had always been before Arthur discovered his inconvenient love for his manservant. It wouldn't be too hard, he only had to get over...oh seven or so years of pining and wanting from afar. It was not difficult at all. He could do it. Really.

 

That sentiment didn't last very long.

 

“You're an idiot,” Gwen informed him the second Arthur finished telling her the whole sorry tale. 

 

“I know,” Arthur groaned into his palms, shoulders hunched against Gwen's pitying looks. 

 

“You should have just told him.”

 

“I _know_.” He didn't need it rubbed in that he had quite possibly ruined any chance of revealing to Merlin what he wanted from him was not just sorcerer and a friend. “And now he's going to go off with Godric and live out the rest of his days in that godforsaken castle in who knows where and I'll just be King Arthur, the Greatest Idiot To Ever Idiotise.”

 

“I don't think idiotise is a word,” Gwen said with a more gentle tone. “You still have time, Arthur, they don't leave until tomorrow morning. Dame Helga was telling me they had to enlarge their carriage – whatever that meant – to fit all the children in with them. Tell him before it's too late. Although I do not think Merlin has feelings for Lord Godric, they just seem very good friends like him and Gwaine. It's all in your head, I'm sure.” 

 

Arthur was about to retort with something truly brilliant and not a little scathing at her patronising tone when there was a knock on the door. Gwen went to see who it was. She opened the door fully to reveal Gwaine and Lancelot.

 

“Merlin's leaving,” Gwaine announced without bothering to ask for permission to enter. Lancelot was more polite. He bowed to Guinevere and waited until she let him in. He rolled his eyes at them, because one would think they would be less formal with each other after three years of being lovers out of marriage. 

 

“Hello, Gwaine, why come in. It isn't as if this is the chamber of your king or anything.”

 

“Merlin is leaving and you said it was all right.” Gwaine's voice rose steadily with each syllable. 

 

“Gwaine,” Arthur sighed tiredly. He was angry enough with himself and he was in no mood to deal with Gwaine's temper. 

 

“He's going. Alone. To the north.” 

 

Arthur rolled his eyes at that. “Are you suggesting I order him to take someone with him because he cannot protect himself? If so, then please be my guest. We would all love it if we didn't have to deal with you when you are turned into a ugly, warty toad.”

 

“I – ”

 

“Shut up,” he snapped before Gwaine could annoy him any more with his indignant remarks. “He's going because he is Merlin and in all the years he has served me the man has never asked me for anything. You _will_ stand in the court yard tomorrow, you _will_ wish him farewell and luck for his journey, and you will most certainly be very happy for him.” 

 

Arthur wasn't sure whether he was still speaking to Gwaine at that point, but he turned his back on them in dismissal. He slumped forward against the windowsill when the snick of the door told him the room was empty.


	4. The Departure and the Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin exchange letters. Well, sort of.

_Dear Arthur,_

 

_We reached swiftly and safely so you can put to rest your paranoid thoughts on magical traveling. (Just because I'm not in control of the spell does not automatically make it unsafe, you know). The Lothian is splendid! I wish you were here to see it. The castle is nestled in a valley surrounded with gorgeous rolling hills, and they have this lake on the school grounds with water almost as magical as Avalon. I met Freya's sister Nyneve too. She is a bit standoffish and treats sorcerers with coldness for some reason, but Helga assures me I should pay it no mind. She did mention Freya was her magical sister in the Circle of the Ladies, which is just a fancy name for those the Old Religion chooses to guard the gateways to the Other World from the – sorry. I'm rambling and I know you don't care for a magical history lesson._

 

_I have yet to meet Salazar. They were not joking when they said he never leaves his dungeons. Perhaps I shall see him for dinner. (Made by tiny little elves! Can you imagine? They are the most adorable, kind, gentle beings I've seen. I think I'll ask one or two to Camelot if any of them wish to see the south._

 

 _Rowena mostly teaches the students the art of Transfiguration and complicated magicks to the older students who have more experience. Helga is more apt with charms and healing spells, of course. Almost all the students love her. She's easily the favorite tutor. Rowena can be a little stern most of the time, and Godric is – well mostly the same. He insists on maintaining a happy medium between Helga's gentleness and Rowena's strictness. From what I gather, everyone is mostly terrified of Salazar Slytherin. At this point I'm beginning to suspect they are pulling my leg. He cannot be that bad if he's on good terms with_ Helga _. I've been employed to teach combative spells with Godric, and other times I give lessons on magical creatures. Camelot's – or your – habit of attracting dangerous creatures has proven useful finally._

 

_How is everyone at home? Hope you are keeping well and not being too much of a prat. If you are, tell Gwaine I've given him permission to harass you into modesty in my stead. It will be a few days before you get this message, so there shouldn't be any drastic changes since I left. I'll eventually have to teach you how to Floo. It's much quicker and it won't tire out Archimedes. Be nice to him when he delivers this, will you? Don't upset him too much, you know how he gets. It'll be your fingers on the line, and a King has many documents to sign._

 

_Give my love to Gwen and regards to the Knights._

 

_Yours,_

_Merlin._

 

Arthur set the letter down on top of the ledgers for this coming winter's grain reserves he had been reviewing when the wretched owl hooted its way into the council chamber. He was aware of his knights' and queen's curious gaze as he read Merlin's last words over and over again.

 

_Yours, Merlin._

 

“Merlin reached safely,” he announced to the room at large when he realized he was taking too long to answer their unasked question.

 

Later, in the privacy of his own chambers, Arthur reread the letter, fingers brushing the corners of the parchment because that's where Merlin would have held the scroll down as he wrote with his brow furrowed in concentration. He sounded so excited in every quilled word that Arthur couldn't bring himself to regret letting Merlin go without more protestations.

 

He sat down at his table, ink pot ready and quill recently sharpened.

 

**Merlin,** he started. Paused to think about what part of Merlin's letter he should address first. 

 

When Arthur was a boy, his tutors had taught him the proper way to send replies to other kings and ambassadors to Camelot. He knew how to write concisely, how to negotiate terms of a treaty with few simple lines of flattery and firm authority. But Merlin was neither king, nor ambassador. He was an anomaly unto himself. After much wasted time he decided to answer the only way he and Merlin knew sometimes: by trading insults.

 

**Good to know your faith in your sorcerer friends is not in vain. I'm always kind to your bird, thank you very much. It's the wretched sparrow that is insufferable. I have been to the Lothian, although it was for a campaign long ago in the winter months so I was mostly miserable in my tent. I'm sure it is very lovely without the blanket of white slowly killing you from the inside out. Does every magical lake have a bloody lady in it? Can't they just leave the poor fish alone? Honestly, Circle of Death more like, giving a man a splendid fright when all he wants is a quick bath in the lake.**

 

**This Salazar sounds like a bit of a snob, honestly. What can be so fascinating in the dungeons? Why would you even want to meet someone who enjoys spending time in dungeons? I really worry about you sometimes Merlin.**

 

 ~~ **I miss you already.** ~~ **We're all fine here. The kingdom doesn't really depend on you for everything.** ~~**When are you coming back?** ~~ **And I most certainly will not tell Gwaine that. As if he isn't disrespectful enough. You're a terrible influence on him. Floo? What is Floo. Never mind, I do not want to know, nor will I learn how to use it. What's wrong with sending letters? You're already using a bloody bird instead of intelligent,** _**human** _ **deliverers. Although, I don't think he'd appreciate me implying he's unintelligent, would he?**

 

~~**I don't think you've ever been gone so long from Camelot. Not even for the siege we laid on Lot's castle last year.** ~~

~~ **Lo** ~~ ~~~~

~~ **Sincer** ~~

~~ **Yours** ~~ ~~ **F** ~~

~~**I hate writing, I've discovered. Especially to you. How am I supposed to end this letter?** ~~

  
  


**From,**

**Arthur.**

  
  


Arthur picked up his scribbled out, pathetic letter, folded it neatly in thirds and he slid it into a safe box in the very back of his closet along with the one Merlin had written. Arthur never sent it to Merlin, and Merlin never let him forget it in every letter that followed.

  
  


_Arthur,_

 

_Salazar is absolutely fascinating. Although I don't think you'd like him much. His experiments are somewhat extreme at times, but he respects the gifts and blessings of nature. He studied with the Monks of Otium in the Northern Isles. It explains how he is able to remain so calm all the time, and prefers to work alone. He also has a rare fondness and affinity for snakes. An unusual creature to adore, I know, but Salazar is so beautiful with them. He calms them with one word – a single hiss, and they become tame as a rabbit._

 

_And have I told about the castle? How the staircases move as sentient beings? And sometimes when I find myself being lost in its never ending hallways, the walls themselves show me the way to my destination. It is unlike any magic I have ever witnessed. It is as if the ground itself wants this magic, nurtures it with a tenderness of a mother looking after her newborn. This castle is alive, somehow, although I haven't the faintest how they managed it. I'll have to learn some of their tricks before I return._

 

_You haven't replied to my last letter, but I know you received it because Archimedes himself told me. I know it must be very difficult running a kingdom without me around to keep your from all your frankly stupid ideas, but try and drop me one line telling me how the king and his people are doing, would you? Gwen and Gwaine have written to me twice already, telling me about the goings on in Camelot. Queen Elena is coming to visit, apparently? Be nice to her, and for God's sake do not let Gwaine anywhere near her. You know what he's like. Poor woman will leave Camelot running and screaming, and we shall never have her as an ally again._

 

_Missing you,_

_Merlin._

 

 

**Merlin,**

 

**I miss you too.**

 

**Arthur.**

 

 

 

_My Dearest Arthur,_

 

_You're a prat. A first class, world champion of the title of the most Arrogant Pompous Ninny-headed Arse. I've written you for two months now, and you still haven't sent word back to me. You and your superior attitude can shove it. I don't care anyway. I shall continue to to send you mini-novels as I have heard you've taken to referring to them (Gwaine). They aren't that long, you tit. I know how doing something remotely brain-stimulating is painful for you. I try to emulate your simple nature in my writing so you can better understand it._

 

_Try not to start a war while I'm away. You know what that does to your waistline._

 

_Merlin._

 

 

 

**Merlin,**

 

~~**I try sending you a moderately legible letter that won't make me look like a fool. An impossible feat, apparently. You really are a terrible influence.** ~~

 

**I like your stories of... Hogwarts, was it? I would like to see it someday. Gwen insists I actually send a letter to you. I don't think I shall, really. Just to be difficult.**

 

**I don't enjoy your silly letters, but if you insist on sending them, I suppose there's nothing I can do but read them.**

 

**Arthur.**

 

 

 

Arthur opened Merlin's latest letter with some trepidation, always afraid that this one would be the one where Merlin told him he was going to stay up north for ever. Although he knew his lack of responses wasn't helping any, he was too stubborn and not proud enough to deny that he was a vulnerable fool.

 

Every letter was a punch in the gut as he read how much Merlin was enjoying himself, and how much it was bothering him that Arthur wasn't sending him letters back. He smiled at every insult Merlin wrote, reading them in his voice – and he'd scold himself for being so pathetic if Gwen hadn't been doing just that for him for the last few months.

 

 _ King _ _ Prat _ , the new missive read.

 

_I'm coming back in one week's time. No need to contain your teeming enthusiasm. I'm afraid your little holiday is ending._

 

_-Merlin._

 

 

That was it. There was nothing more, and Arthur was suddenly hit with the sinking sensation that the reason Merlin had not written more was because he thought Arthur wouldn't care either way.

 

He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed. What reason had he ever given Merlin that he was being missed by Arthur? None.

 

Too little, too late, Arthur picked his quill up.

 

**Merlin,**

 

**It will be nice to have you back.**

 

**Arthur.**

 

**\-------------------**

 

Merlin stared at the letter Arthur had finally deigned to send him. His bread was halfway to his mouth when Archimedes had brought it to him. His mouth was still hanging open, and it closed only when Salazar nudged him politely.

 

“Letter from your King?” 

 

“Yes,” Merlin said. He smiled a little wider, his day feeling brighter already despite the dreary weather up here. “It is indeed a letter from him.” 

 

It wasn't much of a letter, really. More like a note one might scribble down as a reminder for later. Regardless, it was something from Arthur and Merlin didn't particularly care how long or short it was.

 

He exchanged a grin with Salazar. In the months Merlin had been here, he was gone from being wary about the dark stranger who never left his dungeons to holding him in the strictest confidence. It wasn't that they had suddenly become closer than Merlin was with any of the others, but somehow, on some level Merlin connected with Salazar better than he did with Gryffindor. There was something about him that made Merlin itch with a friendly affection he had not felt since Will.

 

He had Arthur of course, but Arthur was...Arthur. There was always an undercurrent of something – destiny, perhaps – else between them that Merlin was beginning to understand better during their time apart.

 

“Ah!” Rowena clasped her fingers together, eyebrows waggling dangerously. “Has the elusive king finally answered to you?” 

 

Merlin blushed at her suggestive tone. Rowena had somehow gotten hold of a letter Gwen sent him weeks ago, hinting at a secret relationship between herself and Lancelot. And Rowena had taken it upon herself to tell Merlin that that meant Arthur was... well, it didn't matter because they weren't like that. Merlin had long suspected something like this had occurred, but it wasn't his place to cast judgment or scorn. Arthur obviously knew, and that was what mattered most.

 

“All set for you journey back, Master Merlin?” Godric asked in his booming voice. 

 

“Almost. There are still a few objects left to pack. I should finish that now, actually. Excuse me, I will have to leave your company early tonight.” He pushed back from the chair. 

 

Salazar stood up as well. “I shall walk with you.”

 

Merlin let his eyebrow convey his incredulity. Salazar was situated in the dungeons whereas Merlin was headed up to one of the towers. When Salazar merely shrugged, Merlin had no choice but to let him follow him.

 

“How will you celebrate your return with your king?”

 

“Oh.” Merlin waved a hand dismissively. “It won't be anything too – I will miss this place very much.” 

 

Salazar stopped him with a firm hold on his elbow, his voice pitched deep and resounded with significance Merlin did not understand yet. “You are always welcome here, no matter how many years pass.”

 

“And you, my friend, are always welcome in Camelot.” 

 

“Well,” Salazar said, his wicked smirk stretched across his face. “Your king wouldn't appreciate that much from what Gryffindor tells me.” 

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“Emrys,” Slytherin reprimanded. 

 

Merlin laughed. “Well, Arthur will just have to understand. He's good at that...sometimes.”

 

“He must care about you a great deal if he is so afraid of sharing you.”

 

Merlin stared at the magical moving portrait Rowena had painted last week. It was of Merlin, Gryffindor, and Salazar locked in a three way duel. “Arthur is difficult, but yes. He does care in his own special way.”

 

“You miss him.” 

 

“Of course. I miss everyone,” Merlin answered carefully. 

 

“You miss him the most,” Salazar prodded, and Merlin would forever understand why the Sorting Hat called him shrewd and cunning. “As...more than just a friend,” he added when Merlin didn't respond. 

 

Merlin cleared his throat, unwilling to talk about this here. Because yes, he did miss Arthur immensely, and he hated how far apart they had drifted in the few days Merlin had guests in Camelot. Merlin would always care more for Arthur than for anyone else, but that meant very little when Arthur had his queen.

 

But he didn't have his queen, a sly voice too similar to Salazar reminded him, his First Knight had the queen.

 

Merlin mentally shook his head. He had long since resigned himself to being first by Arthur's side, and second in Arthur's heart, whether it be to Gwen, or Camelot.

 

**\-------------------**

 

Later that evening, Godric visited him in his chambers with gifts to take back to Camelot. “This is from Rowena and Helga for the Queen. And this,” Godric planted a dry, chaste kiss on Merlin's lips, “is a gift from me to your King.”

 

Merlin gaped at him, confused about what had just transpired. “Uh. What?”

 

“Because Salazar told me about your conversation earlier this evening.” Gryffindor grinned.

 

“Salazar and you are worse than gossiping old maids,” Merlin said, carefully putting away a delicate magical artifact Helga had given him. He licked his lips and grinned. “But I shall be sure to pass your gift to the King.” 


	5. The Coming and the Beginning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin returns to Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is finally done! Honestly, the last couple parts even went up thanks to analise010 who nudged me and pushed me and then with held HER OWN FIC from me. So clearly, I had to have it done asap. XD

The Queen had ordered a feast to celebrate the return of Camelot's most loyal protector.

 

Arthur mostly spent the entire day hiding in his chambers, leaving only when Guinevere ordered him, saying Merlin was due any minute. His arms decided the proper response was to cling onto his bed post for dear life, ignoring Guinevere's irate sighs and tugs on his arm.

 

“Arthur. You have not seen him nor written a word to him in the three months he has been gone. The least you can do is deign to show up the day he is due to return.”

 

“I am King,” he protested, wincing at the painful sharpness of Gwen's nails digging into his forearm. “I have very important appointments and...things.”

 

“No, you don't. Arthur. Let. Go. Now – oof. Percival!”

 

Arthur stared at her in betrayed horror. Surely she wouldn't let one of the knights – however close to the king – witness such unkingly behaviour. Apparently she would, and she had anticipated Arthur being difficult – not that he was being difficult, mind – and had stationed Percival and Gwaine just outside their chamber door. He released the bed instantaneously, straightened his crown.

 

“Nothing to see here,” he told them in his best battlefield voice. They looked unimpressed. “Just get to the courtyard,” he added. Both of them cast twin smirks in his direction, but left with an appropriate bow.

 

Arthur was suddenly reminded of how Merlin _never_ bowed.

 

He shook his head, decisively ignored Guinevere's smug smile and held out his hand for her, because betrayed or not, he was still a gentleman. Really.

 

There weren't as many people in the courtyard today as there were the day the delegation from Warthog visited. The people loved Merlin dearly, but not so much they would want to stand around waiting for him after only a few months of absence. He was gone much longer on war campaigns anyway.

 

What comfortable lives they must lead, Arthur thought spitefully, to be so unperturbed by his too-long holiday.

 

They waited. Arthur fidgeted with the hem of his cloak, restless with anticipation and something else he wasn't willing to give much thought to.

 

Merlin would be angry, he knew, and rightfully so with the way Arthur had treated his leaving. _Like an overgrown prat,_ Merlin's familiar voice snarked in his mind. Maybe Merlin wouldn't question Arthur about his less than courteous behavior, but it was a vain hope. Merlin never let Arthur get away with anything if he could help it.

 

“When did he say he'd be here?” Gwaine asked, looking just as impatient as Arthur felt.

 

“He said noon,” Lancelot said, utterly unaffected by the lateness of Merlin's arrival. “It is only half past. He will be here any minute.”

 

“Um...what are you all doing out here?”

 

Arthur whipped around, heart in his throat at the familiar voice. A few of the other knights had drawn their swords at the unexpected voice as their king just stared dumbfounded. Because there, waiting at the top of the steps behind everyone else was none other than Merlin. Whispers spread across the courtyard, and Arthur knew they were discussing just how the court sorcerer had managed to slip past them.

 

“What the –”

 

“I've been looking all over the castle for everyone.” Merlin looked at their stunned faces. “Have I missed something?”

 

“Merlin!” Gwen ran up the stairs and enveloped Merlin in an unrelenting hug. Arthur did not envy him, having been on the receiving end of Gwen's enthusiastic hugs more than once. “Where did you come from? We've all be waiting for you here!”

 

“Oh.” He grinned sheepishly at them. “I suppose I should have mentioned I'd be traveling by the Floo.”

 

Gwaine rolled his and slapped Merlin's back. “Good to have you back, Merlin. The castle's been ridiculously dull.”

 

Arthur resisted the urge push everyone away and have Merlin all to himself. Only the knowledge that Merlin would frown at him disapprovingly kept him from doing so. He knew Merlin was already annoyed at him; there was no need to flare the aggravation further by behaving like the pillock Merlin always accused him to be.

 

He didn't get a single moment alone with Merlin for the rest of they day. Someone was always sidling up to them, curious about the north and the northerners; parents asking whether their child had settled down in their new home; knights and ladies of the court clutching at Merlin's sleeves to tell him how much they missed him; serving boys and girls flirting outrageously because 'oh! Your hair has grown, Merlin. So handsome, truly.'

 

Through it all, Arthur sat in the dining hall, scowling fiercely whenever anyone came up to him to comment on Merlin's new clothes – _it's how they dress in the North, you see_ , one young lord said in a tone that might have been placating had he not been leering at how broad Merlin's shoulders looked in his new dark leather coat. Arthur glared at the lordling until he walked away, expensive clothes and all.

 

He pointedly ignored it when both Sirs Leon and Elyan tried to nudge him closer to Merlin, and even crossed to the other end of the room in order to escape their _you are being childish_ looks. He tried to leave the celebrations early to avoid running into Merlin when some of the crowd thinned out. Alas, he was thwarted by Gwaine's firm hand around his upper arm.

 

Everyone left eventually until there was only just a few of his closest knights, Guinevere, and Merlin.

 

“Well...this is a nice cozy moment.”

 

Trust Gwaine to try to lighten the mood – and fail.

 

“This has been an exciting day. I am exhausted, so excuse me Merlin, but I think I will retire to my chambers now. It's wonderful having you back. The castle felt lonely before.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek lightly. “Goodnight, Merlin. My lord.”

 

She left with Lancelot.

 

The rest of them trickled behind them like a herd following their shepherdess.

 

“So.” Arthur cleared his throat, aware of how loud it sounded in the suddenly silent hall. “How was –”

 

“Shut up, Arthur. Just. Shut up.”

 

He did.

 

“I wrote to you for months, and the best you could do were three measly lines telling me it would be _nice_? _Nice_. Do you know how it feels to send letter after pathetic letter and to realize that you don't even care enough to send one back?”

 

“Uh. I –”

 

“Seriously. Shut up.”

 

Arthur stood frozen, incapable of moving because Merlin was striding at him angrily now, and it was best to just say or do nothing when Merlin was truly annoyed. He was expecting a sting of magic or a punch even, but what he had not expected in a hundred thousand years was Merlin reaching up to cup his hands around Arthur's face.

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

“So I've been reliably informed,” Arthur babbled because Merlin was close, much too close to him and his instinct was to always insult him. “By a completely incompe – mphg!”

 

Arthur may or may not have flailed, arms waving on either side because _what._ What was – Merlin was – there was kissing happening and all Arthur could do was stand there looking utterly stupid. Merlin was right. He was a cabbage head. 

 

Then, belatedly, he realized Merlin was kissing him. With his lips. On Arthur's. They were touching. Heat flared up where Merlin's body pressed against him. His eyes were still open for some reason, as were Merlin's, who was looking back at him inquisitively. He looked like he was about to pull away, which Arthur most certainly _did_ _not_ _want_. He gulped, stalled his flailing limbs and settled them somewhat comfortably on Merlin's hips. Merlin's eyes immediately crinkled in that way they did when Arthur had done something really noble or really prat-like.  It was the confidence boost Merlin needed apparently, because Arthur felt his tongue flicking against his pinched shut lips and Merlin was coaxing them open and – oh. It was warmer still, Merlin's tongue seeking out his own, awkwardly sliding against his teeth until it was just a wet slide of tongue against tongue and how long had Arthur imagined this? It was nothing like the late nighttime wondering, however. This was something else entirely...something real and so very Merlin that Arthur wasn't surprised when a surprised groan slipped out of his very occupied lips.

 

The soft noise startled Merlin into pulling away. He saw him smirk as Arthur chased after him, wanting more of that wet warmth. Merlin was, Arthur decided, truly evil and the only reason he was still in Camelot was because he just hid his evilness under all those sharp angles and dimpled smiles.

 

“Well. I suppose Gwen was right.” 

 

“What? Why are you talking about Guinevere. Stop it. Let's go back to what we were doing before you started talking about her.” Arthur pulled fruitlessly at Merlin's coat flaps, but he just jumped out of reach, a wild grin playing across his reddened lips. He'd done that, Arthur realized, dazed in a way he never had been from just one kiss. “You are evil,” he informed Merlin, and most certainly did not pout. 

 

“Sorry, sire,” Merlin said, although he didn't look very sorry. 

 

Arthur told him as much, which earned a genuine Merlin smile that he had not since the day he got that blasted letter from Gryffindor. It made Arthur warm and tingly inside for an entirely different reason. Merlin walked back to him, arms stretched out to either side so Arthur could fit in between them. He took this opportunity of this new-found physical aspect of their relationship by pecking Merlin experimentally up his neck.

 

“And you said you hated hugs,” Merlin teased. “Did you enjoy Godric's present?” 

 

Arthur whipped back, horrified. “What? You mean that wasn't –” Arthur felt sick all of a sudden. Merlin hadn't – this was just – oh  _ God _ . 

 

“What? No. No, Arthur, you utter clot-pole. That  _ was _ . Stop being stupid.” Merlin kissed him full on the mouth in answer to everything Arthur was not asking out loud. 

 

Arthur promised he was going to take back every single time he cursed Merlin as an oblivious idiot because if this was what came from years of obliviousness on Merlin's part, Arthur was completely fine with it.

 

He took charge of the kiss, because Merlin would never let him forget if he just stood there dumbly the second time around. He pushed against Merlin until he was pressed against the cool stone wall. Merlin spun them around – the bastard  _ cheated _ , because there was no way in Hell Merlin had the physical capability to manhandle Arthur – so that Arthur was the one with his back to the wall. He let out a pathetic whimper he would never admit to when Merlin insinuated his firm thigh between Arthur's parted legs. Arthur couldn't say how long they stood there lost in each other, but it certainly felt too soon when someone gave an embarrassed cough. 

 

It was a serving girl who had come to clean the hall. “S – sorry, sire. I'll just be going now, sire, and Sir Warlock. Um.” She punctuated the end of each sentence with bows that got deeper and deeper the more she stammered. The poor girl left to room in a hurry, face blazing red.

 

Merlin's face was nuzzled in Arthur's neck. He could feel him shaking with silent laughter, and he joined in, the tense weight of everything they left unsaid leaving him for the moment.

 

“We should go up,” Merlin whispered against Arthur's ear. “Your chambers.” 

 

Arthur nodded and led Merlin up by the most discreet route he knew. He chuckled, a little breathless when they were safe behind closed doors.

 

“I'm sorry,” he blurted, eager to apologize and much more because Merlin was right. Arthur had been the biggest prat imaginable. “I just thought that if you wanted to go so badly then you'd stay there and then Godric was so bloody perfect with his Goblin sword and his stupid hair and red robes,” he was babbling, but he didn't care. He needed to get this off his chest. “And then all you could talk about was what a beautiful castle that place was. I just figured it would be easier if I didn't say anything. My letters were mostly pathetic anyway, and if staying north was what you really wanted, who was I to –”

 

Merlin is on him in an instant, fingers flying to pin Arthur against the door. “You stupid, idiotic, foolish man.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to Arthur's eyes, his nose, cheeks, and finally his lips. “Did you really think I could ever live there for ever? That I could stay away from Camelot or from you?”

 

“Gwen said as much,” Arthur mumbled, heat spreading up his neck.

 

“You need to listen to her more often. Also... Godric's hair? Really, Arthur? You were jealous of Godric?”

 

“Was not.” Arthur scowled at Merlin's chest and wished for his powers. That would show Merlin.

 

“I was always going to come back,” Merlin said with a certain softness Arthur had never heard. “I just... “

 

“I know.” Because he did know now. Maybe he had always known and had just been too stupid to realize. He sidled around Merlin to fetch something from his cupboard. It was his final apology, and though Arthur wouldn't forgive himself for having hurt Merlin, at least Merlin would have proof of how utterly pathetic Arthur had been without Merlin around to straighten him when he pouted too much. Arthur placed the box of letters in Merlin's hand. “Read them later.”

 

Merlin placed it on the table with a knowing smile. “Tomorrow morning, perhaps? You can read them to me.”

 

“Oh. Of course. I can come by your tower to – tomorrow and...what?” Arthur asked, affronted when Merlin began chortling.

 

“Arthur. I wasn't exactly planning on going back to my tower tonight.”

 

Realization dawned on and he smiled, horrified at how shy he felt. King Arthur was _not_ shy. He smirked at Merlin. “Is that right?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Well, then you should tell me how you plan on spending your first night back in Camelot.”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

 

 

 _Fin_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will a be a sequel of sorts to this coming soon. Yay!


End file.
